No Going Back
by EveryDream
Summary: There's no going back to the way things were, no going back to right the wrongs committed. There's only the now- the dead and the living- fighting each other for survival. Jean has a list, ten people like her who can survive the dead. All she has to do is find them, but her search proves harder than she thought. The list is dwindling, the people dead or untraceable. Fear the living
1. Chapter 1

**-OC story, set at the start of the outbreak eventually to catch up with series. My version of how it all began and my character's journey to try and make everything right again. Enjoy.**

Nothing was the way I remembered it, and yet, everything was the same. The house would have been torn apart, ransacked and raided if not for the defenses in place long before the world ended. My keys still worked in the door, clicking each lock open one at a time with each different key. Holding onto the things hadn't been easy. They'd nearly cut a huge gash into my thigh when I'd fallen and landed on them stuffed in my pocket. Things had been out of control, but I could specifically remember the fall that jabbed the keys into my leg. It was a sharp reminder that there was somewhere left where hope might remain outside the burning city.

The city… I sighed, nudging my way into the door and nudging those thoughts out of my mind. Dust covered everything, a fine layer caked over picture frames and leaving prints behind me on the floor. There wasn't much, I'd seen houses with much worse in houses that had been left open for wind to blow dirt and survivors track mud and grime in.

Kicking at the fine dust I made a point to ignore the photos. We were always a photo loving family, every empty wall immediately filled with photos as we moved in. I didn't even need to look. I knew every photo by heart. They were memories of a world lost, memories I needed to let go. A pang hit me in the chest, painful and twisting in a way that brought my heartbeat up to my throat. To my right on the wall was a photo of four people and a dog.

The mom was grinning, the father smiling down at his daughters- not even looking at the camera. I was laughing, the youngest family member's hands digging into my sides, her face still turned to smile innocently at the camera. The dog needed a haircut, it had been so hot that summer but we'd waited till after the photo to shave her down to a short cut rather than the shaggy black fur. Biscuit, that was her name, she'd died a year and a half ago. If there was anyone who I would have blamed for the dust in the house it would have been Biscuit for rolling in the dirt and tromping it in through the doggie door.

It amazed me how much dust could gather in the week since anyone had been here. Then again, no one had actually been in the house in going on two weeks. Testing a few switches I found the generators were still working, a nice surprise seeing as the lab was probably still going downstairs. The generators themselves usually only supplied power to the labs, but in case of emergency there were backups for the house as well. These hadn't been used thanks to the empty state of the house, so there was plenty of power left over for my use. Probably less power left over in the labs though as there was more to keep going constantly down there.

That's where I was heading, the labs. The steel door leading to the converted garage opened with a loud hiss of escaping air, the locks clicking open. My mother's lab was first, an area I was tempted to close my eyes when passing through. My foot collided with a pen, the writing utensil rolling across the floor several feet. Eyes focusing in the glaring light I stared down the pen, half hoping it would burst into flames and trigger a mass explosion in the lab that would kill me and burn the entire house to the ground.

But then again, with the entire room being encased in metal and cement, it would take a pretty large explosion to take out all those hung up memories with the required poetic finesse. Moving on, an open hatch in the ground was my next passage going down into a stairway. The basement lab was my father's, another locked door requiring me to dig out my ID- another painstakingly held onto artifact- and scanning my handprint. It opened into disarray. The ID for all intents and purposes wasn't that tough and probably shouldn't have broken in half or bent beyond use by now.

Standing there before the panic induced mess of the lab I could imagine what had happened. My father, rushing to find something or do something or do anything to fix the problem he'd created. It had all been so harmless in the beginning, and yet… I know I knew. I know I should have seen it. Over the years I'd become so adept at turning a blind eye, going with the flow of his plans and creations, that when it came to the point I needed to stop him… I couldn't do it. There was no way to bring him back.

* * *

Opening the door took turning not one, not two, but five different keys in their respective locks. When the door finally swung open with an oil begging creak on its tired hinges I swung a foot out to prop it open. Swinging in my suitcase, a load of dry cleaning lugged over my shoulder, I let the door shut behind me, and the locks clicking closed automatically behind me. I rolled my eyes, remembering dully the pain of retrieving the newspaper or the mail as a child. The dry cleaning went slung over a chair back in the living room, my suitcase propped against its side as I examined the room.

"Mom? Dad? I'm home! I brought the dry cleaning like you asked," My sweetened toned voice elicited no response. I figured coming home an hour later than I should have would have brought about a good scolding from my mother, but then again they'd probably seen on the news about the snow storm keeping me locked away in up north. Thankfully I'd grabbed an earlier flight last minute which so happened to have been the last one to leave before the storm grounded all the others. Luck, as always, was on my side.

Atlanta on the bright side was experiencing a nice, hot summer. The temperature had lowered just below the boiling point of blood in the evening cooling as I'd landed a half hour prior. My calls to the house had been unanswered, no way to tell my parents not to pick me up at the airport. Of course, they wouldn't have anyways, but that was nothing new. The only response I'd gotten was a text when I'd landed asking for me to pick up the clothes from the cleaners.

Glancing to the floor length evening gown and tux I frowned, "Are you two planning on going out tonight?" Still no response, but their cars were in the driveway as we didn't store vehicles in the garage. That meant they were either getting it on or down in the lab. I liked exploring the latter better than the prior, so I headed for the garage, leaving the dry cleaning to wrinkle if it wished.

My mother's lab was in the basis of the garage, a much smaller room than the actual structure as the walls were built up thick inside, leaving less room. Mother didn't need much room though, and the walls were all for security purposes. The entire house, despite its slightly ragged appearance, was not one that could be accessed easily. The labs were a good example of that.

However, the current lab before me sparked worry in my chest. Gazing over the array of work splayed out made my stomach turn and my brows knit together in confusion. My mother was a very organized person, and didn't leave out any project lying on its own and walk away without putting things in their proper places first.

I didn't touch anything as I passed, first rule of the labs since I was old enough to sit on the floor and watch whatever it was they were doing. I certainly wasn't allowed to know, everything private work commissioned by the government or companies. That didn't stop me from skimming the notes as I passed. She was working on plants again, different stages of her research splayed out along the metal tables heavily covered in lab equipment and machines I couldn't name.

The scribbled words made me pause, gazing over a notepad containing my mother's handwriting. As it went on the words slowly and then quickly became more and more hurried as she rushed to finish something. The last word trailed off in a thick line of ink across the rest of the page, the pen in question lying on the floor beside my foot.

**Contagious**

Frowning again I wondered if I should have thrown on a mask before entering. Yet, there hadn't been any warnings lit up outside the sealed entry door. If something airborne or biological had gotten loose then the computers would have picked it up in regular analysis of the lab air, automatically setting off the warning signs. But if the generators were running low on power they would have begun turning things off to conserve power. Power though didn't seem to be a problem as everything was running just fine from the florescent lights to the whir of machines chugging along without their master's watchful eye upon them.

The only way to know was to keep moving forward. Mom's lab was above Dad's, the only entry inside her garage based portion. Dad's portion was underground, beneath the entire property almost. It took a hatch in Mom's floor, already open, followed by a large door requiring my ID and handprint on a scanner to enter. As the door opened the first thing I noticed was darkness. There weren't any lights on save the light humming glow from a few machines.

I entered anyways, knowing Dad sometimes left the lights off to think or lower the electricity bill slightly. Secret laboratories really hiked up your electrical bill. Metal gleamed in the mix of lights, reflecting green 'on' lights and an artificial sun lamp keeping its heat splaying over a set of small plants just poking through the soil. Three hallways stretched before me, the one immediately to my right taking me to my father's office. Inside was dark, only lit by a desk lamp illuminating the rectangles of black scribbled white around the room.

The room yielded nothing but the bunches of papers thrown around the room and a few knocked over trinkets tossed from shelves and the desk. This was not unusual sadly. Dad was prone to throw and toss things when he became upset or frustrated with his work. Many childhood memories in the office bore him randomly chucking something across the room or ripping a paper to shreds.

"It helps me think, to get the anger out with a shattering coffee cup so I can focus on how to make a new weapon that'll have our enemies shaking in their boots or cure a nasty cold," He'd told me once, a bright smile on his face at the idea both of shattering glass and the mass death of any enemy appointed to him by his employers. "Sometimes it helps to break things."

"Dad, I'm home," I called out again, checking the rooms containing his test subjects.

A few eyes shone in the darkness back at me, a growl and low hiss reaching my ears that had me backing out. I hated the test subjects. That's what we called them, the test subjects; subject a, subject b, subject c and so on. They could be nothing else, because they were nothing else. No amount of cuteness or life within them could save them from doing their job and purpose. Sometimes I worried he'd slip up and forget who the test subjects were again.

"Dad?" One last hall, one I didn't remember. It had to be a new addition and the unlit state of it had me pulling out my phone to add some light. At first there was nothing but a locked door, but a bend in the hall had me facing three walls of glass. All of them were pitch black, so much so that I couldn't see anything inside. I reached out to touch the glass, see if maybe my vision was fooling me. There didn't seem to be a purpose in it, nothing inside that I could see. My eyes began to adjust, stomach sinking thinking I was seeing something moving on the other side.

"Jean?" My father's voice had me jumping out of fright. Turning from the glass I started to walk away. A loud thump sounded behind me, like something hitting the glass full force. My step paused, feet shifting slightly to look back. There was nothing visible in the darkness of the hallway, my light shining towards the floor and making a slight reflection on the glass. My mind flashed back to the test subjects. I didn't want to know, I decided quickly. I didn't want to know if he'd crossed a line again.

"Right here Dad," I responded. The lights were now on in the main room of the lab.

My father looked disheveled and worried. "What were you doing down that hallway?" He ran a hand through his thinning hair, something he only did when he was very nervous. His eyes looked a little wilder than normal, signaling his stress was much higher than normal to someone as good at reading him as I was. "Did you see anything?"

Confused I replied, "No, it was too dark to see. Why?"  
He sighed in relief, his body visibly relaxing as every tense muscle slumped at once. "Just do your old Dad a favor and don't go down there, okay?"

Smiling lightly I moved in to pat him on the shoulder carefully. "No worries Dad. You say jump, I say how far away do I stay from the creepy dark hallway."

He managed a small smile in return, looking worn out and exhausted. "Good, thanks honey."

I shrugged, "No problem, rule five." When Dad said stay away from something, I stayed away. That lesson had been learned early on as a child. Even now as an adult and college student I still obeyed every last rule of the labs. "Where's mom?"

Panic flashed briefly in his eyes. "She's… in Africa, secluded part of the Congo, took a cab to the airport. No service, cell phone or internet. May take a few days, may take a few weeks, she didn't know. They called her in suddenly, she had to leave so fast she didn't even have time to pack or put up her lab. Asked me to do it though she's been gone," He looked at his watch quickly, "Seven hours and I still haven't gotten to it. Don't tell mom."  
Ah, that explained it. "Something contagious in the plants?"  
He froze, tensing up again, "What's contagious?"  
"Er… nothing, I have no idea. It was just scribbled on her notes." Oops, bad choice Jean, slipped up. You're not supposed to be nosy. The last thing I wanted was to lose my access to the labs.

"You were reading her notes," His brows knit together, an action I'd gotten from him obviously. "You know you're-,"

I held up a hand to stop him, rolling my eyes. "I know, I know. I'm not supposed to read the notes or anything because it's classified and yada yada, blah blah." Waving the hand in the air to shoo away the words I told him, "I'll just go unpack now Daddy."

"Wait," His groaned word halted me at the door. I turned back, seeing the mischief glowing in his dark eyes. His brain was working, the cogs and wheels visibly turning. He looked like a movie character, a villain plotting just how to kill the hero while staring into the camera for dramatic effect. "I need a favor."

"Sure. What kind of favor?"

Dad frowned, half looking like he was about to take it back but pressed forward anyways. "With your mother gone to the Congo I need someone to go with me tonight. It's a very important meeting-ish thing. I'll be presenting some of my new work and I'd like some sure fire applause to back me up eh?"  
"And make sure no goons drag you away."

A small smile that held maybe too much truth in it when it spoke its words came in reply, "That too. Your mom dropped off the dry cleaning you got yesterday before she got called away. You can wear her dress or one of your own. Be ready to go at six thirty tonight, okay?"

"Sure thing," I shot over my shoulder, pulling open the lab door. I didn't have much time, it was already five. My Dad had no idea how much time it took to get ready for meeting-ish things, his code for a gala style party that he really didn't want to attend. It was likely to be incredibly boring as all sponsor raising events were. He'd put on a charming smile, mother or I or both of us would play the pretty face, and we'd keep their projects going for another year or so.

Grabbing the dress from downstairs I stared at the red material, the halter neck one I'd have to tie tight to make up for its length being longer than my height. Mom was taller than me, so her clothes were always difficult to adjust to my height in the instances becoming more and more common where I'd take her place at events. Surprising how a few inches could make so much difference, or an increase in work load- supposedly. I knew better than to question it. But I also knew my mother was still here for two reasons and two reasons only. She loved who Dad once was, and the guilt would plague her if she wasn't here to keep him from snapping.

I considered for a moment grabbing the phone, leaving a quick message for mom before getting ready. There was no telling when she'd get it, but once she got into service again she could listen through the messages on her phone. Maybe she'd call when she did, tell me what was up with the new addition to Dad's lab.


	2. Chapter 2

**To clarify- the beginning of the chapter is present time of the story, the second part is flashback. Not all chapters will be like this.**

The first thing I explored was the burnt out freezer storage unit. Melted glass stuck to the sides and bottom, molded in misshapen piles and splatters from the overheated glass exploding. There were no containers left, nothing of what was once held in the freezer surviving the flames set off inside of it to complete that exact purpose. My hopes dropped considerably, even knowing finding some of the containers was a long shot. Without what had been in those containers there were dwindling options for hope.

Shutting the door with a slam it refused to close, swinging back open and banging into my side almost mockingly. "Oh shut up," I muttered, giving it an extra kick for good measure. It swung back around again to hit me, this time ignored as I began to search the rest of the lab.

Cabinets, drawers, computers, not a portion of the lab went unsearched. I decidedly stayed away from the third hallway, not yet ready to go down that road again. I figured if a corpse was in there anyways it would have found its way out by now. The last option was the computers. With half the screens smashed I had no idea if any of the system would actually work.

To add insult to injury I hadn't a clue how to even navigate the computer. Past the password the amount of files baffled me. My head was panging with an oncoming headache staring at the screen. The hum of generators spun through the room, buzzing in my ears making it all the worse.

"Come on Dad, what am I looking for here."

As always, Dad was never one to answer straight out. The minutes ticked by into an hour and then another. The files started to blur as I sat back, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes with a frustrated groan. I didn't have time to go through every single file.

"Okay, think, if I were the file containing a possible solution to the apocalypse where would I be?" It hit me after about five seconds of staring at the ceiling how incredibly stupid that sounded. "Yeah… so I've hit rock bottom. Come on Dad, give me a break…"

* * *

"Are you ready to go honey?" My Dad was waiting downstairs impatiently, his shoes making a racket on the hard wood as he paced in front of the door.

"Forty-six seconds," I yelled down to him, throwing a few last items into my purse and stopping in front of the mirror. With a bit of quick work on the halter and some extra high heels the dress fit fine, just skimming the floor. Given, it would be hard to go any faster than a walk tonight without risking breaking a heel, but all I needed was a fast walk at best to retreat from the rich socialites and under socialized scientists.

He was mouthing the numbers to himself as I made my way downstairs, using the handrail to slide down several feet to save time. "You know how I feel about you doing that," He muttered, watching my descent carefully.

"Relax Daddy," I told him on my landing. "I've got great balance. Gotta with heels like these," kicking one leg back as I passed to show off the red soled heels I smirked to him. "Remember these bad boys from last Christmas?"  
"I remember the price," He muttered, reaching out to pause me at the door. "Hold up, I need you to take something before we go."

My hand froze on the door handle, already half turning it. "Rule three," I muttered in return. My other arm extended out, I didn't even want to look. "When asked to be a test subject, always agree."

His only response was a low chuckle, the needle sliding into my arm to deposit whatever substance it contained into my bloodstream after he'd cut off the flow and swiped the injection site to disinfect. The liquid made my arm tingle slightly, sweeping through to my fingers as it made its way down and then back up my arm into my shoulder. By the time it passed through the joint to my neck the tingle was already fading, barely noticeable as Dad stared, waiting for my reaction.

"Well… my skin isn't turning into reptilian scales," I observed, turning my arm over to check, just in case. Patting the top of my head I added, "And no horns growing, so that's a plus. That would have really messed up my hair. It took forever to get these curls just right."

A smile broke over his face at my humor. Nodding, more to himself than me, he rushed to his lab to dispose of the needle. "Meet you in the car."

Sitting in the passenger seat waiting for his return I couldn't stop staring at my arm. There was nothing visibly wrong. I felt fine, but it didn't sit right. When I was younger I was always eager to hold out my arm. I had fantasies of waking up a cat person, or being able to fly or shoot fire from my hands. Eventually something was bound to go wrong. As a teenager I realized the morals, or lack of morals, in my father using his daughters as test subjects. There my school was running weekly anti drug campaigns and I was having experimental unknown substances pumped into my arm by own father.

"God you're such a pushover," I scolded myself. What else was I supposed to do? Say no? Sorry Daddy, but I don't want to end up like-, "Don't go there Jean."

I fidgeted in my seat, trying to erase the flashbacks. I wasn't going to go there. That was forbidden territory, a whole bunch of cut off pictures and empty wall hooks, a forever sealed door right across from mine. Still, I couldn't stop the image of Jordan from appearing in my mind, a vague image blurred from my resistance to let it come to focus.

"Alright, let's get this over with." The car door slammed closed with unnecessary force making the entire vehicle move.

"You okay Dad?"  
He kept his focus on backing out of the drive, barely mumbling a "Peachy honey", to me as he started us towards the city.

The event was by far one of the largest I'd ever been to. The room was filled with dazzling people, their voices echoing up to the high ceilings and drifting across the white cloth tables. Everyone was dressed to the nines, suits and gowns galore, every young woman's fantasy closet on display in the array of colors and styles.

I, however, was bored to death. A few minutes of the glitz and glam had my eyes hurting. The lights were all too bright, the gowns to flashy, reflecting the chandeliers glare off their beading and jewelry. There wasn't a single synthetic diamond in the room. I took little comfort in looking like I fit in. Mother's dress was right up to par, minus the bedazzled quality some of the dresses took on, and it wasn't like I couldn't pass for pretty when I put in the effort to do something with my hair and makeup. It just wasn't something I did often, which only made me more uncomfortable.

That and the feeling of being on display like a pedigree dog. I was constantly attached to my father's side, drowning out science and business talk as soon as the introductions were over. These people were all very important to my father's work, sponsoring it and awaiting its success for their own benefits. There were politicians, scientists, and people from all different military branches of high rank whose titles got lost to me as quickly as their names. Not a single young and at least slightly attractive male in the lot. Shame, usually genetics favored the rich and powerful.

My best chance was the thirty year old epidemiologist from the Atlanta CDC, Paul Butting, who looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in over a year. Speak of the devil.

"Miss Slater, Dr. Slater," Dr. Butting called as he approached at a brisk pace ushering two more people with him. "I have some people I'd like you to meet."

I turned towards the two, meeting the eyes of a handsome face of a blonde man smiling politely as he shook my father's hand. His other hand was carefully tucked into the hand of his wife, a beautiful woman with intelligent eyes full of questions. I reached out my hand to shake hers; surprised to find another rough hand among the sea of smooth ones I'd shaken that night.

"This is Dr. Edwin Jenner and his wife Dr. Candace Jenner, the head scientist at the Atlanta CDC, otherwise known as our personal genius."

"I'm Dr. Marcus Slater, and this is my daughter Jean. It's a pleasure to meet you both," My father said, his voice and body tensing for not the first time that night. His gaze settled on Candace, "You're the head scientist?"

"Surprising I know, I'm far too young aren't I," She laughed it off good naturedly, not at all offended by his rudeness. I had to resist rolling my eyes at the baffled look on his face, the control not hard to find when I noticed the underlying tinge of fear.

"Haha, yes, but that must be a testimony to your genius, right?"

The way my father was laughing told me something was wrong. The woman's presence was making him nervous. I glanced between the two, trying to see if the head scientist was showing any signs of nervousness as well. Her face was clear of any condemning emotion. The thought crossed my mind of an affair but I couldn't see the woman cheating on her husband, they seemed even from a quick glance to a trained eye to be perfectly in love. Wow, a sight for sore eyes.

"So Jean, are you in college?"

I jumped slightly, not having realized the conversation had moved on during my observation. "Um… yes. I'm a few years behind though, I started late."  
"Oh really," She seemed generally interested, the first of the night. "Why is that if you don't mind me asking?"  
"I was traveling," I replied, smiling lightly at the happy memories. "Seeing the world and all that, mostly around the US seeing all the different places we have to offer but I also went to France, England, Spain, Egypt, and Brazil."

"Wow, how long were you there?"  
"Only a few weeks in each of the overseas, sometimes less," I explained, feeling my father's heated glare. He hated that I'd 'wasted' years traveling around the world to build up skills and experience in the world. "In the places I went in the US I stayed longer usually, saving up enough money on small jobs to move to the next place."

"How long did you do this for?"

"I started at eighteen, right after finishing high school until I was twenty, so only two years. Then it was off to college. I'm working up towards being just like good old mom and dad." I threw a light playful punch to his arm, smiling and forcing him to as well.

"Yes," My father said with a half growl to his tone. "She's quite smart when she works hard and applies herself. She's almost done with her sophomore year."

I shrugged happily, feeling comfortable for the first time all night, enough to let myself loosen up a little. "I'm not in a rush. Life is about experiences and living, right Dad?"  
He nodded tensely, his gaze focused on the man climbing up the steps to the stage. "Looks like I'm about to be on…"  
"Good luck, we're looking forward to seeing what you've created," Candace said, both doctors shaking my father's hand again as he was called up to the stage with a light applause filling the air. The sound increased as he approached the stage, people clapping politely and nervously in anticipation of what he was about to show them.

I was nervous myself. I had no idea what could possibly be coming up on that screen of his set up on stage. The surface filled with light, the room going silent as he began to speak.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you all for coming here tonight. I know you're all very excited to see the work I've been diligently preparing for tonight's presentation. While the final result is not yet finished, I have a lot still to show you while I perfect the finer details of my plan." Over the crowd my father looked at me, his eyes boring holes into mine before continuing their sweep over the crowd, back and forth, back and forth. "Let's begin…"


	3. Chapter 3

**-Changed the story name to make it simpler. Enjoy the chapter. I don't own twd, only my characters and all that yada yada onwards.-**

In the end, the file was simple. There was no password, no levels of files to sift through in endless branches, which is probably why it took me so long to find. Hiding in plain sight was the perfect spot for my father's final message.

I sat staring at the video message, paused before it could even begin. I had no idea what I was about to see, or hear. It couldn't be much more than what I'd already heard from him before he died. That didn't mean I couldn't be listening to the last hope of humanity crumbling to dust before me.

There was only one video in the file and two word documents, both opened before me. The word documents contained two lists of names, addresses and hospital addresses with dates and reasons for hospitalization on the first. None of the names stuck out to me, the hospitals and addresses of the first list of people in Georgia from the towns and cities surrounding Atlanta.

The second list had no addresses or hospitals, just names and numbers and a medical report on each telling their symptoms and reaction times. I didn't linger on the information of that one long. This was the list of those subject to the world we now lived in, the first victims before the outbreak. One name caught my eye, focusing on it for a moment I read it through trying to push down my emotion.

**Teresa Slater, female, 49, TS-13, administered BSR-16, reaction time: 12 hours**

I closed the document, putting my focus back on the paused video. "Here goes nothing."

My father's frozen form began to move on screen, his voice no longer comforting to my ears despite the familiar sound. "To whoever is watching this, hopefully Jean, I hope I'm still alive. If not I hope my plan was still successful." He leaned back in his chair, staring at the camera for a moment without speaking. "Jean, if you're listening to this, I'm sorry you have to live in this world without an easy way out." Say what? "I'm also sorry about your mother. She served a great purpose to science and she went peacefully but she was still your mother." I didn't believe a single of his apologies. His voice was void of any emotion, not a hint of remorse.

"In the beginning it was all a job. I was trying to create a super soldier, but that you already know. Endless stamina, a way to make them never tire, make them stronger and faster. My serums kept killing my test subjects though, until one of them showed increased brain activity long after death. It was chance," He was actually giddy in the video. "A random post mortem scan resulted in the creation of the greatest virus ever to be invented. It was a complete accident that I discovered the BSR strain. It needed work of course; it took me until SCR-16 to get it just right and even then if I'd had more time… I could have developed something even more destructive."  
He was a child playing with a magnifying glass and an ant hill. All he wanted to do was watch the smaller intellectual beings burn. "How could you…"  
"Your mother was the first test subject of BSR-16. When she reanimated…" He seemed to pause to revel in the memory while I fought the need to puke. "It was perfection. For the first time the virus worked just as I'd planned. It spread like meningitis, infected the person's brain after death and brought it back to life, the reasoning behind the simple name. Brain Stem reanimation, recreating the most basic needs and instincts to fulfill those needs," he explained. "They come back to life and all they know is to go back to the very start, carnivores hunting living prey for fresh food. This does almost nothing for them. Their bodies process the food enough to keep them going but they're still dead so they continue to decompose.

"Yet, it's not our extinction event. This is natural selection at its finest. After a few years the bodies of the dead will have decomposed. Then all that's left are the immune and the survivors to repopulate humanity. My estimate is around six to ten years for this process to complete. While the bodies last longer feeding on the living, they're still exposed to the elements. When this process is complete the world will have begun to regenerate and repair itself. The environment will have had time to heal and will be able to do so for years to come until humanity can get on its feet again.

"I hope you live to see it, I know you will. You're made for this world," He didn't seem to care who could be watching, just knowing it had to be me and talking straight to me alone. "You can shoot a gun, an arrow, you can fight, and you can survive. Jean, you could beat this world on skills alone without what I've given you."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" I ask the screen, half expecting it to reply. It feels like he's really here.

"I know you're not happy with this. I know you think I'm some kind of monster but I saved you. I- I gave you exactly what you need to survive, but the world honey… the world needed to be fixed."  
"You could have left it alone."

"I had to do something-," He was stumbling over his words.

"You had to kill people," I scoffed back at him, forgetting he wasn't there.

"I know one day you'll understand."

"I will never understand your sickness." We should have stopped him before this. Mom and I should have stopped this

"Honey," He paused taking a deep breath. "Don't be angry, there's no going back now, only forward. The two lists, one is of the subjects I tested the BSR on. That one won't do you any good anymore. But knowing you you're going to want to protect people, like with Amanda."

His voice didn't even waver on her name, and that made anger flare inside me. He really didn't care about anyone or anything but science. To the outside observer it would look like he cared about me, but I know better. I'm just another lab rat, one with advantages instead of disadvantages, left to watch the control group die slowly and painfully. This was all one big experiment involving the entire human race with a termination of all failed subjects.

"You're the exact opposite of me. I'd say like your mother but she was never a woman of action, just morals… I'd like to watch the world burn for all humanity has done. Asking me to create better soldiers so they can keep fighting and killing each other over what? Land? Religion? Just pure hatred? If they want to fight each other well then," He raised his arms in a full shrug, the clap of them dropping to his the chair sounding through the audio as he slumped. "They can fight each other for years. We're a doomed species Jean, we failed. All our advances in medicine, technology, they're all just leading up to us killing ourselves off by our own stupidity through wars or some other disease or… this was humane!"

There he goes trying to defend his choices again. "You're not going to justify it Dad," I muttered to the screen. I was getting tired of this. "Give up and get to the point."  
"But if you really want to try and save them well," He shrugged again, waving a hand in a dismissive manner. "Then list number one. For every strain I created a cure, destroying both as I developed bigger and better… Once I reached BSR-16 though I ran out of time. I needed to use the meeting to get things started before they discovered what I was doing with their funds," He chuckled darkly. "So I wasn't able to create a complete cure. There's different… levels of the cure, three in fact. One is for the dead. When injected into the brain it cancels out the virus, shuts them down and kills them. It's practically useless since you can kill them by stabbing the brain anyways. It doesn't work on the living however because it shuts down all brain activity, not just the virus. It's pretty much just a lethal injection for the dead."

My mind flashed back to the hallway behind me, remembering my father holding up a needle like it was Excalibur, stabbing it into the brain of the corpse trying to eat me. That must have been cure one.

"The second is a deterrent. It creates a… a shield out of the body. Instead of smelling appealing you repel the BSR-16 subjects. That is the second injection I gave you. You won't remember it because you were sleeping but I'm sure you've noticed by now that the dead keep their distance. If only I'd been able to create one to keep boys away from you in high school, I could have worried a little less…" His humor only soured my mood further. There was nothing funny about this and he was laughing manically.

He became serious suddenly, leaning forward towards the camera so he was completely visible, eyes focusing on the center. "Jean, this next part is very important. The third cure is the one I gave you the night of the gala. This is the one I administered to the people on the first list. It makes you immune in a way that I never expected. If I'd wanted to really ruin the world I would have released this creation onto it. It mutates the BSR-16 so that when you die, as long as it's not a fatal wound to the head or other major organs, you can come back to life as you. It kick starts the brain, all of it. The reaction time is unknown. I don't know how long a person can be dead and then come back to life with this, but it works. Everything you were still exists, you don't decompose, you are alive. You can come back to life.

"As the disease started to spread I rushed to administer this to as many test subjects as possible, trying to find people I could get the drug to who had high chances of survival. You find those people; you've got your survivors. The cure is in their blood, in your blood. It mutates not only the BSR-16 but you, speeding evolution to resist the virus by changing your DNA!" He was giddy again, "Your children, your children's children, they'll all hold this immunity. It's like with pesticides. You spray a field hoping to kill off all the pests. BUT a few could still survive, they're more resistant. They find other resistant bugs and reproduce, creating more genetic resistance with each new generation. You can keep upping your dosage to kill them, but there's still the chance that just enough will survive to create an even better generation. Evolution my daughter, favors the resistant, the survivors," He sat back with a flourish of his hands.

For a moment I thought the video was over as he didn't move. I was frozen, waves of shock bouncing around in my brain trying to process. "Oh my god… I wish you were here so I could beat you to death." Did he really just put the repopulation of the earth on my shoulders?

"Given, there still could be some people able to survive but if they do I suppose they deserve to continue living. There's always the possibility that blood transfer could give the cure to others but there's no telling without testing how that would work." His voice was pondering, if not a little sad that he didn't have time to further test his creation.

"Having fun playing God?" I questioned the screen, resisting throwing something at it.

"I have to go now Jean. I love you honey. I know you're going to survive; you're going to make it. Never give up, never look back. You may have to do things you don't want to, may have to kill people, will have to fight for survival, but you know how. You can do this. This is the world made for people like you, survivors." He nodded to himself, having fully convinced himself he was right. "Good luck. Stay alive. I better not see you on the other side anytime soon."

His hand reached forward in the shot, reaching to end the video but he paused. His eyes turned up to the camera again. Even though I knew he was just looking at the camera, it felt like he was taking one last look at me, one last goodbye. Maybe he had a picture of me sitting there to look at, to talk to. I was thankful, at least, to have a last moment to look at him as well. It didn't matter how angry I was, how much I hated him, how much I would always loathe him. He was still my father. He was sick, demented, evil, so many things, and my father.

"Goodbye."

"Bye Dad," I whispered in return. I stared at the screen long after the video had gone dark. It wasn't until I dropped my face to my hands that I realized I was crying. "How could you? How could you do this to me? To the world? This isn't right…"

_There's no going back, only forward._

I straightened, wiping away the tears from my face. Inside my emotions were shutting down. I had a job to do. There was still a chance. Humanity could still survive, and I knew exactly who I needed to find. There were still people alive out there, and we had to band together.

"There's still hope." I printed out the list twice. There were only ten people, not a single one from the same place. "Really Dad? This is you trying to put the cure in a lot of people?"

Trying to look at it from his point of view I pulled up a map, cursing there wasn't any internet as I had to track down an actual map. Splaying the paper out on the kitchen table I grabbed a marker. I marked my location first in Fulton county, just outside Atlanta, then started marking locations from the list.

"Taylor Fisher, Austell, Cobb County; Gil Templeton, Good Hope, Walton County; Sue Chapin, Hampton, Henry County; Fletcher Sinclair, Holly Springs, Cherokee County. That's four… number five, Evan McCabe, Oakwood, Hall County." So far there was a circle around Atlanta. I could start at any point and work my way around. "Gregory Devane, Oxford, Newton County; Harley Ford, Matt, Forsyth County; Katie Williams, Hoschton, Jackson County; Victor Lovett, Senoia, Coweta County; and Rick Grimes, King County Georgia…"

The last one had no address, just the hospital he was staying at, apparently in a coma. Great, he was more than likely deader than the dead. To make matters worse he was outside of the circle, veering way off to the side of Georgia. I sighed heavily, shaking my head at the map. I still needed to go there eventually, just to see and be sure. Maybe he survived and I could track him down, him and every other person on the list.

Ten people, eleven if I included myself, were the only ones to hold the cure. Why my father chose them was unknown. Though I could guess how he got them to take an unknown drug seeing as they were all hospital patients when he'd injected them. I could see him waltzing into a hospital room dressed like a doctor, chatting with the patient for a moment as he stuck their IV with the needle, hoping they wouldn't question. If they did he'd probably say something about an up in dosage and take off as quickly as possible before he got caught.

Staring at the dots I decided to start in Walton County with Gil Templeton in Good Hope. It was a trek to get there, a lot of open space, but it looked like a good omen to start at. If I started with him I could move down to Gregory Devane and then Sue Chapin, make my way completely around the circle to Katie Williams in Jackson and then veer off towards Rick Grimes. I was counting mainly on luck. The chances of any of them surviving were slim, but we were still early on. The first round of survivors was probably gathering in groups. If these people had survived then my best bet was to go to where they once had been, checking to make sure they weren't obviously dead, and then following the nearest groups in search of my targets.

I knew how to track, knew how to be quiet and quick. Plus, I had the one benefit no one else had- the dead wouldn't come near me. As long as I stayed away from the living and could find food and water, I could technically survive on my own for as long as I wanted. Too bad I didn't want to be on my own.

These people needed to know how important they were as well. There was a chance of humanity surviving the dead. I wasn't stupid. The problem now was surviving the living.


End file.
